Beautiful
by DuchessOfDementia
Summary: Fred thinks the last name "Lovegood" is hilarious. George thinks it's something else entirely. George/Luna.


**New fic for the George/Luna lovers. This will be longer than my last story for these two, and I think some good, thorough reviews would be a fair reward, eh? Eh? :D **

x-x-x-x-x

"'_Lovegood_?'Her name's _Lovegood_? You _can't_ be serious," Fred whispered gleefully in George's ear. The Room of Requirement buzzed with barely-suppressed laughter following the introduction of Luna Lovegood, a small fourth-year Ravenclaw with what appeared to be vegetables hanging from her ears.

"Thanks, Luna," Harry said after throwing Seamus Finnigan a particularly dirty look that immediately stopped his laughter. Ron continued to chuckle to himself, and Hermione slapped him rather viciously on the arm.

Luna Lovegood ("_Lovegood_! What a name!" Fred said under his breath) returned to her place in line as Cho Chang stepped out, introducing herself as well.

George, who was still trying to smother his own laughter, looked up and down at this Luna girl. She looked small and reminded him of a lost child, looking around the room with wide eyes. Her hair was impossibly long and heavy, falling over her shoulders and down to her hips, and her skin was stark white. She looked bizarre, somehow, with her too-long hair and huge, childlike eyes. George wondered if "Lovegood" had ever even been on a date before. He guessed not, since every bloke in the room apart from Harry and Neville Longbottom had laughed when she said her name.

Luna's eyes continued to rove around the room when they fell directly to George. For some reason, being under her stare made George feel like squirming; her eyes were somehow both misty and perceptive, like she was seeing nothing and everything all at once. George didn't know why, but he found himself thinking that she had rather pretty eyes, even if her gaze was more than a little uncomfortable.

He didn't realise until her eyes drifted over to Dean Thomas that she must have only really looked at him for a second or so. It _felt_ much longer. He shook his head and turned to listen to Harry, Fred's whispers about 'Lovegood' still ringing in his hot ears.

x-x-x-x-x

"_Lovegood_—that's rich, isn't it?" Fred chuckled, mostly to himself. He helped himself to an egg as George looked around the Great Hall, checking that Harry, Hermione or Luna herself wasn't in earshot.

"I mean, 'Weasley' isn't the best, but imagine having a name like _that_. Opens up all kinds of possibilities, doesn't it?" Fred snickered as he chewed off a piece of egg. George only shrugged at his brother's jest, when finally he saw the person he'd been so curious to see. She skipped(_skipped_, of all things) into the Hall wearing pantyhose that were dyed bright blue. George was puzzled to see that she wasn't wearing any shoes, and wondered how she managed to skip around like that without slipping all over the floor.

"Well! There's Miss Lovegood now," Fred said with a colossal grin. George playfully hit him in the arm, muttering, "Don't."

Fred raised his eyebrows. "Something eating you, George?"

"Bloody hell, Fred, she's a _fourth_ year. I realise it's a comedy gold mine and all, and I can appreciate that, but it's more than a little _wrong_."

Fred shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. Fourth years aren't so bad. Take _Lady Lovegood_ herself, for example." Fred surreptitiously pointed to her from across the Hall as she straddled a bench and leaned in to talk to a nervous-looking Ravenclaw boy. "She's cute, isn't she? Reminds me a bit of that French bird from the Triwizard, actually."

George cocked an eyebrow and turned to look inquisitively at his twin. "You think she looks like _Fleur_?"

"Well, a _bit_. No, no, really; look at the hair and the eyes. The faces look nothing alike at all, but when you look at it like that..."

Both Weasley twins were staring at her now. Luna was smiling pleasantly as she chatted to the Ravenclaw boy, who just looked puzzled. George suddenly realised that her hair was, indeed, the same colour as Fleur Delacour's. Fred had been correct about their faces, though—nothing alike. Sure, both of the birds had the kind of white, soft-looking skin that seemed like it'd be nice to touch, but Fleur had narrow cat eyes while Luna's were huge, and Fleur had those tiny, cupid's-bow lips and Luna's were small and plump.

All of a sudden she stood up, chirped "bye!" to the boy she'd been chatting to and began to skip towards the Gryffindor table. Fred and George both cleared their throats and turned their attention back to their breakfasts as she came their way. However, instead of paying them any attention, she skipped right past and paused to speak to Neville.

Neville smiled nervously when he saw her and moved his books so she could sit down. George watched with a bit of a frown as Luna sat and began to speak animatedly to Neville. They were sitting so _close_, George thought, and she was staring so intently at him, as if he were the most interesting thing she'd ever encountered. George wondered if Luna talked to everyone like that, or if Neville was just..._special_ to her or something. For a reason he didn't care to think about, the idea unsettled him.

"Good on Neville," Fred muttered, wearing a mischievous grin. "Perhaps he'll get some of that _good love._"

"Oh, shut it," George grumbled, not moving his eyes from Luna's finger as it twirled in her white-gold hair.

x-x-x-x-x

By Christmastime, George had learnt a good bit more about Luna Lovegood.

The first thing he learnt, courtesy of Ginny, was that he had already met Luna, long before even entering Hogwarts. As it turned out, she actually lived quite close to the Burrow, and as a toddler she and Ginny used to get thrown together for playdates. The second thing he learnt was that her mother died when she was still young, and her death was the quintessential reason for why Luna stopped coming to see Ginny.

George was not surprised that he did not remember her—he and Fred had hardly left their room as children, and certainly not if Ginny had a friend over. As children, the Weasley twins didn't suffer girls very often. _Now_, though...well, they'd changed their outlook since then, that much was certain.

George was a confident bloke, and he was well aware of the way his mind worked. For this reason, when term resumed after Christmas break and he saw Luna Lovegood by the Lake for the first time in two weeks, he realised that he...sort of liked her.

He and Fred were on their way to the Lake in order to test an array of fireworks that they'd thrown together over the holidays when George spotted her. She was sitting under a bent, twisted tree, reading that mental rag, _the Quibbler_ (her father wrote it—this is among the things George now knew about her), upside down. Her hair hung over her shoulder like a thick, white curtain and her small, feminine legs, clothed in mustard-coloured tights, were tucked underneath her. Nearby, Neville Longbottom was ankle-deep in the water, gleefully examining what looked like a long, ropy wad of dead hair. Every once in a while Neville would throw some comment directed at Luna over his shoulder and, patiently, she would lower her magazine and answer him politely in her singsong voice.

Fred noticed Luna's presence, too, and seemed heartily amused by it. As if he could sense his brother's awareness of her (as a matter of fact, he probably could), Fred dropped the fireworks he'd been carrying at a spot that was so close to Luna and Neville that they were within earshot and announced, "Oh, this looks like just the place we've been looking for! Whaddya think, Georgie?"

George had more than a few choice ways of answering that question, but held his tongue when he noticed Luna glancing over inquisitively. She was eyeing the fireworks with a kitten's curiosity, and George wondered if the gears of her bizarre mind were grinding away just then, thinking of more creative uses for them. She turned back to Neville, however, when he called out to her, asking if she though whatever the hell the hairball in his hand was looked 'mature' or not.

She tilted her head to the side and answered, "Its colour suggests so."

George wasn't in any of Luna's classes, obviously, and did not know whether she was a good student or not. If asked, he thought that much of the student body would probably attest that Luna Lovegood was not the best person to ask for an opinion; Neville, however, seemed quite satisfied with her suggestion, and continued to finger the black, ropy weed in his hands, looking pleased. George wondered if Luna even knew anything about Herbology, or if she was just using common sense. She was a Ravenclaw, he supposed; she probably knew a bit more than the average bird. George wondered, then, why no one ever gave Luna any credit for being sorted into the cleverest house at Hogwarts. Everyone treated her like something that belonged in a padded cell at St. Mungo's.

Fred snapped his fingers in front of George's face and said, "Oi, Georgie! D'you want to test these or not?"

George shook his head, composing himself, and answered "Yeah, right—'course."

Fred looked amused again, grinning as he removed his pack from his shoulders and began digging for his wand.

"Don't worry, Georgie. I'm sure she and Longbottom are just _friends_."

George scowled and muttered, for what felt like the millionth time that year, "Oh, shut up."

x-x-x-x-x

D.A. meetings had become nearly unbearable for George Weasley.

If it wasn't bad enough that Angelina was always winking and smiling at him (after only breaking it off with Fred a month or so ago), Luna and Neville Longbottom seemed to be getting friendlier by the minute.

"I'm useless, I am," Neville said lamely one afternoon, shaking his head after a failed attempt at the _Expelliarmus_ spell.

"Oh, that's not true," Luna said softly, sliding in next to him and touching him comfortingly on the arm. Neville regarded her tenderness with wide eyes and a steadily reddening face as he sputtered for a response.

"I'm sure it's just a matter of focus. Perhaps something's distracting you," she suggested, throwing him a little half-smile, making him doubly red.

George wasn't sure, but that sounded an awful lot like flirting to him. He never thought he'd see the day when a pretty girl was flirting with Neville Longbottom (especially when he himself had a bit of a thing for the girl in question), but there it was.

"Oh, you're pathetic," Fred muttered when he noticed George's staring. "Really, it's been _ages_. You haven't even got the nards to talk to a mental _fourth_ year?"

George was tired of denying his brother's assertions, so he didn't. Instead, he only shook his head and turned back to his twin.

"That's not it, is it?" Fred asked, sensing George's fatigue. Really, sometimes the _twin telepathy_ thing was a bit annoying, George thought.

"Drop it," George sighed, raising his wand and pointing it at an armed statue.

"What, you don't want to have a bit of a flirt with her, then? Perhaps you think it's beneath her. Perhaps you're in _love_."

For some reason, the accusation, however unserious, bothered George more than it should have. "You're losing your touch, Fred. Perhaps _you're_ the one going mad."

George muttered _Expelliarmus, _but the dummy's wand hardly twitched. George groaned.

"Maybe Loony's diagnosis is on point, after all. Perhaps you're messing up because you're distracted, like Longbottom." Fred cocked his head in Neville's direction. Luna was still comforting him, and Neville looked ready to faint under her kind attention.

"Probably got the same distraction," Fred added in a low voice.

Neville nodded, a smile slowly coming to his face. It looked like Luna's reassurance had succeeded in cheering him.

George watched curiously as Neville aimed his wand at another dummy before calling out in a voice far too clear to truly belong to him, _"Expelliarmus!"_

To Luna, George, and Neville's immense surprise, the dummy's wand went flying, landing somewhere near Michael Corner.

"Neville!" Luna exclaimed, her eyes wide. Neville's face was startled, looking like he hardly believed it himself.

Luna suddenly jumped to the tips of her toes and threw her arms around Neville, making him look even more shell-shocked than he already did.

"Neville, that was _brilliant_!" Harry called happily, and Ron stuck two fingers in his mouth and wolf-whistled. Hermione and a few other Gryffindor girls clapped while the Ravenclaws only nodded their grudging approval, since most of them hadn't been able to cast the spell themselves yet. It was probably quite insulting for the cleverest house to be shown up by the slowest Gryffindor.

George wasn't thinking very hard about that, though. He was thinking more about Luna, who still had her arms around Neville's middle as she beamed up at him. Neville smiled shyly back at her, clearly unused to close contact with girls.

Fred whistled and hit George lightly on the shoulder, as if George wasn't already looking at the scene.

"I take back what I said earlier about them just being friends, mate," he laughed, turning back to his own spellwork. George tried not to grimace.

x-x-x-x-x

He couldn't like her. He couldn't. It was mental, absolutely _mental_, to think that a hilarious seventh-year Gryffindor could be hot for a barking mad fourth-year. She walked around without shoes on and read things upside-down, for Merlin's sake. He liked stirring up trouble and making people laugh, she liked going on and on about things that didn't exist. George told himself all of this, and yes, it made her sound like quite the addled one. But for some reason, the concept of spending time with Luna, no matter how mad she made herself out to be, was becoming less and less unattractive.

He wondered about her. That's what did it, he thought. All the _wondering_. He knew so little about her, when it really came down to it, and he didn't like it. So he watched her, and watched her, and still he knew nothing.

George wondered if Neville knew more about her than he did. He wondered if she fancied Neville. He wondered if she might fancy _him_, if they knew each other better. It was unrealistic, since George's seventh year was ending in three months, for him to believe that there was still time for them to become friends. He supposed that he would just have to suck it up and go on living without ever getting to know Luna Lovegood.

But she was torturing him, she was. Dancing around all the time, her long hair swaying and her heels clicking (with Harry's help, she had located her pair of Oxford shoes, which he had apparently found washed up on the shore of the lake). It wouldn't have been so bad if she wasn't so cute, George thought. He was seventeen, after all, and hardly in a position to resist the charms of a cute girl, even if she herself was barely fifteen.

There were days when he honestly didn't even think about her. It was easy to avoid her, after all, being in different houses and years and everything. But then he'd see her in the Great Hall smiling at Harry or walking in the corridors with Neville and all of George's progress would be lost. Fred had finally stopped teasing him about being hot for her (Fred firmly believed in avoiding the overuse of jokes), but it didn't mean it was any less true.

He'd never been so..._fascinated_ by something before. That had to be it, right? Being that she was fascinating, coupled with the fact that she was cute, too, made him think about her a lot. It was simple maths. He didn't like her (or worse, _love_ her, as Fred accused him). She was just..._fascinating_. Alright, so perhaps he fancied her a _bit_, but it was no greater than any fancy he'd ever had before. It would go away as soon as he'd snogged her, or at least once something better (and hopefully more willing) came along, right?

It was frustrating, to say the least. He had never, _ever_ had a problem with pulling a girl, and with Luna, it wasn't just a matter of failing to pull her—he had failed to catch her attention at all, it seemed. No, she seemed perfectly content with spending all her time by the lake or in the library with Neville Longbottom, probably listening to him ramble about plants for hours on end.

Though Fred had given up with all the jokes about how George was "in love with Lovegood," or "loony for Loony," he was not blind to the fact that his twin hadn't tried for a girlfriend all year. Katie Bell was always mooning after him, much to his dislike, and Fred wouldn't let a day go by without trying to goad George into "going for it."

"Katie's a twat," George had said ungracefully at Fred's last attempt at matchmaking. "She's good at Quidditch, yeah, fine. But she's got a beak-nose and she was a prat to Lee, remember that? So, _no_."

Fred had since stopped asking.

One evening in late March, George was wandering the seventh-floor corridor. Filch had relayed to him the absolutely _thrilling_ news that Umbridge wanted his detention moved to that night, and George had decided to take the long route and walk past the Room of Requirement, secretly hoping it just might get him out of it. It was a slim chance, he knew, but one he would take regardless, because he would try anything—_anything_—to get out of a night stuck in that offensively pink office of hers.

He saw the wall coming up in front of him and paused to hold his breath. Closing his eyes for a moment, he resumed his pace, opening them and feeling the air rush from his lungs when, slowly, the door began to materialise.

George ran to the threshold, pausing again before he pulled the heavy door open. George held his breath wonderingly, curious to discover what the room had conjured for him. Suddenly, as though out of nowhere, a soft and terribly familiar voice greeted him.

"Hello, George Weasley."

George jumped at the sound of Luna's voice, whirling around to see her sitting cross-legged on the floor, her back to him.

"How'd you know it was me?" he asked, unnerved. People who were staring right at him sometimes still couldn't tell he was himself and not Fred—he wondered how she could have ever known who he was when she wasn't even facing him.

Luna turned halfway, looking at him over her shoulder. Her wide, inquisitive eyes seemed to pierce him. He shifted uncomfortably.

"I'm observant."

George nodded stiffly, his mind whirring with questions. The door to the Room of Requirement had since swung shut, and George was left wondering _why_, on his way to what would have surely been a _memorable_ detention with Umbridge, the Room had appeared for him, containing nothing of interest save for Luna Lovegood.

George looked around. The Room was different from the way it was when they used it for D.A. practice—it was furnished, now, with couches, armchairs, bookcases everywhere and a fireplace. It was still quite sparse, but it was definitely an improvement on the bare, mirrored room he'd always seen when he was inside.

"What are you doing here?" Luna asked, cocking her head to the side inquisitively. George hadn't realised that he'd unconsciously walked further inside, drawn to her company like a moth, helplessly and inexplicably drifting towards a tantalizing flame.

George cleared his throat, regaining his bearings. _Come on, be witty,_ he told himself. It was a simple question; surely, he could answer it without encountering much issue.

"I was sort of looking for an out on a detention. The Room appeared for me," he explained awkwardly.

Luna pursed her lips, looking vaguely interested by his explanation. "Curious," she said calmly. "Well, you're welcome to stay, of course."

George nodded and rocked on his heels for a minute. "So, er, Luna, what exactly are _you_ doing in here? Curfew's soon."

Luna shrugged, having turned her attention back to a heavy-looking book in her lap. "I come here to be alone." She paused, looking up at the wall, and amended her statement. "Well, I'm nearly always alone, except for D.A. meetings and the times when I'm with Neville. But I come here to be truly alone. I think it's quite nice. Sometimes I fall asleep in here, and no one notices I'm gone."

George raised his eyebrows as he moved next to her, sitting down by her side. "You _sleep_ here?"

Luna looked at him baldly. "Sometimes, yes. It's very comfortable, as you can see," Luna said, gesturing vaguely around the Room, which, indeed, looked more than a little inviting. George would have to remember that the Room doubled as a napping spot the next time he had a free period.

"I guess, but...I mean, you can't really _like_ being alone all the time."

"Not _all_ the time. I see Neville and Harry once in a while, and of course there's D.A. I come here to get away from the others in my house, usually. They don't like me very much, and besides, this is a nicer spot to read."

George felt terrible guilt settling in his stomach. Sure, he had never made fun of Luna himself, but he had never stuck up for her, either; not even against his own brother.

"Don't listen to them," George said, feeling very passionate all of a sudden. "Kids are stupid, you know? They only say things like that because you're..."

George's thought dropped when Luna met his gaze, a hopeful shine in her eyes. "Because I'm what?" she prompted airily.

George was dangerously close to blurting out '_pretty_', but managed to find the word he had been looking for: "different. Because you're different."

Luna cocked her head to the side and looked around the room, contemplating this. "D'you reckon it's bad to be different, George Weasley?"

"No!" George assured her. "It's great—I mean, _I_ think it's great. It's what makes you Luna, isn't it? I mean, imagine if you dressed and acted like everyone else. And, hell, shoes are overrated anyway. I'm telling you right now, 'boring' would _not_ look good on you."

"I thought so, too," Luna murmured, her brow wrinkling. For the first time ever, George thought that Luna looked...upset. He had never seen Luna appear to be anything but cheerful, dazed, or a combination of the two. He didn't know if he could handle seeing her sad.

"I quite like myself, you know," Luna said, fingering strands of her silvery hair. "What bothers me is that...no one else seems to."

"_I_ like you," George said boldly. He suddenly felt panicked when he realised the carelessness of his phrasing, but by then it was too late to take it back. He at least hoped she didn't see his eyes go wide.

Luna turned to him, looking eager for a moment, _hopeful_, even, but then she looked away and answered evenly, "That's nice."

George frowned. "Well, er, it's generally customary to answer this sort of thing with an admission of your own," he said, trying to coax at least a remotely emotional response from her.

Luna bit her lip, looking thoughtful. George tried very hard not to dwell for too long on what a pretty picture she made, sitting there and nibbling her lip. And, really, the absolute _last_ thing he needed to be thinking about was her _lips_.

"Alright, George Weasley. If you can answer three questions, I'll tell you if I like you or not."

George cocked an eyebrow, wondering if this was some kind of weird Ravenclaw foreplay. He wouldn't exactly put it past them; he'd heard some of the bollocks that prat Michael Corner said to Ginny. He sounded duller than a librarian.

Luna, however, was most decidedly not Michael Corner, and George had no doubt that whatever questions she asked him would prove interesting. "Alright, then," George said, shrugging.

Luna nodded. "Firstly, George, do you call me 'Loony' behind my back?"

George must have looked surprised, because he certainly felt it. "'Course not, Luna. Why, did you think that I did?"

Luna shrugged carelessly. "Nearly everyone does. I know that Fred does, and you two seem to find a lot of the same things funny, so..."

George felt another rush of shame for allowing his brother to call her that. He wondered how she could have possibly heard him, but, knowing Fred, George was sure there had been at least a few times when he hadn't bothered keeping his voice down.

"Anyways. Secondly, d'you think I'm mad?"

George gave her a good-natured grin. "Well, a pretty girl's a pretty girl, mad or not, right?" he joked, nudging her in the shoulder with his elbow.

Luna raised her eyebrows slowly, coldly, and pursed her lips. George quickly scrambled to repair his statement.

"I mean—I didn't mean that, I was just being an ass," George said quickly. His eyes widened when he realised his potential mistake, however, and he backtracked, stuttering, "I-I mean, you _are_ pretty—_very_ pretty, actually. But I said it to, you know, make you laugh."

Luna tilted her head to the side, blinking. "Make me laugh? Why?"

George came very close to groaning in frustration. He hadn't anticipated that talking to Luna Lovegood could really be this difficult. Neville made it look so _easy_. If he had known, he would've practiced, or something.

"Well, generally speaking, humour is a good place for friendship to start, wouldn't you say?" George said, hoping his anxiety didn't show.

Luna pursed her lips thoughtfully. "That seems to be one avenue of possibility, yes. But not always, I think. For example, Neville and I became friends when his Tasmanian-Toothed Flytrap bit my finger one afternoon in the library, causing me to bleed profusely for five whole minutes as Neville fervently apologised. He's very easily flustered, you see."

George cocked an eyebrow at the story that was so easily coming into his mind. "Yeah, Neville can be awfully..._debonair_ like that."

Luna shrugged. "Well, I suppose, returning to my original point, perhaps I _am_ mad. I'd thought you were a little different. Oh well," she said with another one of her little shrugs. It was the careless, toneless way she said that—'_Oh well!_'—that made George feel suddenly desperate.

"Luna," George said wearily as she once again turned her attention back to her book. She paused, sighing heavily and looking at him over her shoulder curiously, as though she had fully expected him to allow their first real conversation to end on such an awful note. "Didn't I just say I was trying to be friendly?" George said, trying to soothe her.

Luna's eyes drifted to the floor and she took a strand of her hair in her hands, running her fingers over it absently. She said nothing, so George took it as an invitation to continue.

"Fred can be a prat, he'll make a joke of anything that he thinks will get a few laughs from someone. But I don't think you're mad, alright? I think you're brilliant."

Luna's eyes snapped up to his face, and the smallest, sincerest of smiles appeared on her lips. She cocked her head to the side and looked him over again, as though she were re-assessing the boy she had thought him to be.

"Is that true, George Weasley?"

He nodded, pleased to finally be getting through to her. "Course it is. You're great in the D.A., and you're in Ravenclaw, after all..."

Luna's cheeks began to flush, much to George's surprise. He'd never seen her blush before; in fact, he'd rarely seen her show any kind of emotion at all, apart from her standard cheerfulness.

"Now—wasn't there a third question?" he prompted merrily.

Luna's eyelashes fluttered, and she looked suddenly as if she had been torn from a pleasant daydream. "Oh—yes. Right. I was going to ask if you would let me come watch the next time you and Fred set off fireworks."

George blinked. "But...you were there last time."

Luna shook her head. "It felt more like intruding. I'd rather be there knowing I'm allowed to be there, you know?"

"Yeah," George sighed, thinking of all the time he had spent watching Luna walk around the grounds, and chat with Neville, and feeling like a creep because of it. "Yeah, it's nice to be welcome."

"Well then, if that's all sorted, I've decided that the answer is yes," she said cheerily, flashing him a dazzling smile.

George was puzzled. "Yes...to what?" he asked stupidly.

"I've decided that I _do_ like you," Luna explained. "You're alright."

George couldn't help but chuckle a bit at the absurdity of the situation: Luna Lovegood, easily the most bizarre girl in school, had just judged him on his character.

"Pleased to hear it," he said, and George Weasley smiled, _really_ smiled, because as stupid and immature as it seemed, he was genuinely elated.

"Will you stay here, then?" she asked him suddenly. "I imagine Filch and Umbridge will be looking for you for quite a while, given that you've missed your detention."

George paused to consider this. Indeed, knowing Umbridge, she'd be utterly outraged about his disappearing act, and the manhunt for him probably would last all night. He hadn't thought about it when he first entered the Room of Requirement, but unless he wanted to sneak back to the dormitories and hide in Fred's trunk, his only attractive option seemed to be to stay here with Luna.

"I think I have to," he said, glancing at her. "Stay, that is. Not that I'll mind or anything, long as you're here."

It might have just been his imagination, but he thought he saw her lips flicker into the briefest, most spontaneous of smiles.

"George," Luna said abruptly, her gaze snapping to the floor, "I've been wondering about something."

George waited patiently for her to say more, but she seemed to lose her nerve. "What about?" he prompted, curious to hear the rest of her thought.

"Well, it's just that...I've noticed you watching me for the past few months. In D.A., and around the castle. And what with you coming here, to the Room of Requirement...I mean, it seems odd that the door would appear for you. It's...puzzling me. I feel as though there's this...thing...following us around. And that thing is what brought you here."

George felt secretly pleased that she had spoken, nearly word-for-word, the thought that had been at the forefront of his mind since he walked through that door and saw her inside. However, his pleasure faded when all of her words sunk in.

"You...know I've been watching you?"

"Oh, I didn't mean it in a bad way or anything. It's sort of...um...I don't know, what's the word for feeling good about yourself because of something someone else does that bears significance towards you?"

George blinked. "I think the word you're looking for is _flattered_."

"Flattered—yes, exactly. I'm _flattered_ that you were watching me. I didn't mind it or anything. No one really pays me much attention, so it was sort of nice to have an older boy observing me."

She said it so baldly that it made George's ears grow hot. "Well...it was sort of a gut-reaction thing. I wasn't trying to be a creepy prat or anything, I just...found myself...looking for you." He had tried to make it sound less bizarre, and Luna's expression didn't look put-off in the least, so he supposed he had done alright.

"You know, it's curious. I've sort of been feeling that, too," Luna said, her brow and nose wrinkling up in deep thought. "I swear, the Nargles must be quite besotted with me, since lately my brain goes all hazy and senseless when you're around." Luna shrugged thoughtlessly. "But I know what you mean, about the watching thing. Since around Christmastime, every time I've been in a room with you, I've suddenly wanted to look at you, even more than I normally look at people. You know?"

George sighed. Leave it to Luna to take a potentially tender moment and murder it with her literal logic. Of course, if she had explained it otherwise, she wouldn't exactly be Luna, would she?

"I think I know what's making our brains go hazy, and it's not Nargles," George said patiently. Luna looked at him curiously, looking every inch a Ravenclaw. Her expression was one of someone avid to learn new information, and George found it terribly adorable that she should employ such a face at a time like this. She was so endearingly innocent.

"I think we fancy each other."

Luna's reaction was immediate; her mouth dropped open, her eyes widened, and she began to look anywhere but at him. George's hope plummeted to the floor.

"Well—that's a theory, certainly," Luna murmured, grabbing at her hair all of a sudden and twisting it around her finger. George reached out and put his hand over her own, effectively halting her nervous action and grabbing her attention.

Humour, flirtation and suggestion would not work on Luna, it seemed. He had tried all of them, and each had failed miserably, forcing him to amend each line into a more literal statement. That left one viable option: total, blunt, embarrassingly literal honesty.

"_I _fancy you, Luna," George said, trying to remain calm. "I think I have for a while now. I'm used to stupid little twits that I can have a flirt with, though, and you're nothing like that. I'm a bit out of my element. But there it is—I fancy you."

Luna paused. Her eyes dragged all over George, from his knees to his forehead, before she answered.

"Well, if you're so sure it isn't Nargles, then I guess I fancy you, too."

George felt a grin break across his face, and, without even thinking twice about it, he murmured, "Luna, you're beautiful."

Her eyes were wide again, brimming with their fetching naivety and innocence, and it was slowly driving George insane. She really was beautiful, all fair and blonde and perfect, like some miniature angel or what have you. She looked like a startled deer at the moment, however, her starry grey eyes huge with what was probably both shock at George's compliment and her unyielding innocence.

She really had no idea how all of this went, did she? The idea, though it probably would have turned him off to her if she were anyone else, somehow seemed extremely appealing when applied to Luna. He liked the idea of him being the first bloke Luna'd ever fancied, and hopefully, her first in a number of ways beyond that. Because, Merlin, did he want to kiss her.

So...well, he did.

It was instinct, at first; he'd snogged plenty of girls before, so of course he was familiar with the duck-and-swoop manoeuvres associated with the act, and could perform them almost automatically and without issue. His hand assumed its practiced position at her neck, where his thumb fit just under her jaw line so he could feel her pulse. It had been executed flawlessly, just like with every other snogging he'd ever done.

A moment later, however, he realised he was _kissing Luna Lovegood._

And she was kissing him back.

_Oh_, the things Fred would say if he knew.

It was a brief, only a handful of seconds or so, before she pulled away with a gasp, their lips smacking as they separated.

Luna looked at him warily for a minute before speaking in the high, airy voice he loved so much. "I've never done that before."

It was finally George's turn to shrug. "I wouldn't have guessed."

Luna's eyes danced along the carpet for a moment before finally travelling upwards to meet his firm gaze. "I'm sorry. I'll try again, if you like."

George smiled softly, his lips still warm with her breath. He felt weightless, happy, for the first time since Umbridge took over the school. He had Luna Lovegood, the prettiest thing he'd ever seen, all to himself, and he still couldn't shit believe his luck.

"We've got all night, remember?" he reminded her, flashing a roguish smile.

x-x-x-x-x

**Soooo much development in this one, whew! I considered making it multi-chaptered, but I really wanted to keep it in the fifth book, so I decided that a oneshot was the way to go. I'm considering writing a DH George/Luna, if I get a good amount of reviews for this story, I think I'll go on and start writing it. George and Luna are truly adorable, aren't they?**


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